


The Journal of One Aggressive, Companion-Dependent Female

by BuckyThe2nd



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Adaptation, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing with one's self, Awkward Conversations, F/M, First Fic!, Guns, Hallucinations, Hearing really agressive voices, How do these tags work?, Lack of Ammo, Minimal Character Death, Misuse of Stimpacks, Other, Out of Character... Characters, Radroaches, Randomness, Serious Plot Divergence, Spoilers! (kind of), Weirdness, humor?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyThe2nd/pseuds/BuckyThe2nd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On October 24, 2287, I woke up from my cryogenic pod. With little skill with firearms, and a Mr. Handy as my companion, I traversed the Commonwealth with only one goal in mind. Find Shaun, my kidnapped child. Along the way, I encountered strange creatures, and eccentric people, discovered the truth of my mental stability, embarked on countless journeys, and helped so many people I've become a legend.<br/>It's been several years since my awakening into the new, radiation-filled world.<br/>I still haven't found Shaun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! Hopefully it won't completely screw up! Ah, who am I kidding. If you do leave a comment (comments are appreciated!), don't be too mean, please? Constructive criticism is appreciated (and I seriously need it). The chapters will be split up into two different kinds, dialogue chapters (filled with dialogue, focuses on character development), and narrative chapters (focus on action events, and much quicker progression of the plot).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the beginning of the game... kind of. The protagonist wakes up after +200 years in a cryogenic pod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of an unnecessary, (probably) unwanted fic! This chapter, a dialouge chapter (basically)!

I woke up like any other normal person. In a cryogenic pod, coughing heavily for air, and staring at the lifeless eyes of my husband. That’s normal, right?

            After I got out from that damned thing, I made my way throughout the vault, attempting to get out as fast as humanly possible. After witnessing my husband get shot and son kidnapped, I was in no mood to get comfy. It was as if the air itself resonated death. I would look at a computer terminal, or a bed, or a weird blond boy on a poster smiling and giving a thumbs-up, and like lightning, a thought pertaining to “ _your husband is dead_ ” or “ _your son was kidnapped_ ” would shoot through my brain, with the equivalent pain of a bullet.

            It only took me about five minutes before some freaky bug the size of my arm started to jump at me from somewhere, in random intervals. They weren’t really strong, though, even if I wished I could thoroughly wash my hands after punching the disgusting things. Some time later, I encountered a skeleton I could only assume to be the Overseer, and there was a gun laying around. My hands trembled the entire time I was carrying it around, afraid I might actually have to use it (in retrospect, I just think my past self was a wuss). I prayed over and over again that there be no more Radroaches, but then I turned a corner and it jumped out and I wasted excessive ammo trying to get rid of it. I finally shot it in the head, but by that time there were shells covering the floor around me, and when I finally calmed down, and attempted to reload my gun, I found that I didn’t have anything. Like any self-preserving lawyer without a gun, I panicked and scurried the place, hoping to find some ammo laying around. Unfortunately, I found nothing, and I was also lost. I walked around the place, with occasional nose-pinching where the corpses still stunk, or the vault beds’ unnatural scent wafted up to my nose. I wandered around, until I finally reached the area with all of the cryogenic pods, and I looked up, and found myself staring eye to eye with my husband (ex-husband?). It was like an automatic response after that, something I couldn’t control. I walked straight out of the vault, my legs carrying my unwilling body across the threshold of the vault.

            _I need to scavenge for ammo while the only threat are overly-sized bugs_ , I told myself.

            _Ok. Why don’t you check your **dead** husband? You really love to look at him. _I countered.

            _I didn’t do this to him,_ I argued, _that bald dude did._

I could almost see another me rolling their eyes. _Keep telling yourself that, idiot. I’m sure the upper-world filled with psychopathic bald people can relate_.

            The three minutes it took me to get out of the vault was quite literally filled with self-arguing, with one “me” trying to defend myself, my identity, and other attempting to convict me, turn me into the bad guy.

            Then, the elevator finally returned to the surface, and I told my other self to shut up as soon as I looked.

            The world was desolate. Plants with actual leaves had withered away into simple wood, and the slight greenery I had observed as I ran for my life 200 years ago had disappeared. My eyes slightly widened as my eyes cast across a skeleton, lain a strewn, leaning against a small little building next to the vault entrance. I looked inside, and grabbed as much as I could, even some weird pen that had a stupid pun engraved on the side of it, as I figured it could probably be used as more of a weapon than my puny fists. I didn’t really know what to do, for a minute, as I wandered around, away from the vault. I was too dazed by the world, the deaths, the simple wrongness of it all, to remember what I should do next. It wasn’t until I looked up from my moping, and noticed a broken house near me. My eyes widened, and my feet began to run again, even though my brain hadn’t processed my directive enough to put it into words.

            I needed to go to my house.

            It didn’t take long, which is probably why I didn’t encounter anything along the way. I halted to a complete stop at one point, as my brain whirled away like a machine, trying to recognize my house out of all of the broken ones that surrounded me. Then, I turned around, and there was a Mr. Handy staring me right in the face.

            I screamed, scrambled back in panic, and the robot also moved slightly backwards apprehensively. I could see recognition in his slightly dynamic face, and I was confused. Silence landed upon us like a really thick blanket, suffocating me until I couldn’t take it anymore and I spoke up, my voice a croak.

            “Codsworth?”

            Just like that, the previously silent robot began to speak amiably to me.

            “Is that you, mum? I do believe so!”

            Stupidly, I nodded my head, as if he needed more confirmation.

            “I need water.” I attempted to voice. My throat was parched, and the sound waves produced from speaking were weak, and hurt my throat. I was almost afraid that I wasn’t loud enough, that Codsworth couldn’t hear somehow, but just as I attempted to raise my voice, he began to speak again.

            “Yes, yes. That’s what happens when you don’t drink something for 200 years. Ha-ha!” Codsworth said.

            My eyes widened in surprise for the billionth time that day. I couldn’t believe that I had been away that long. Codsworth was still here, wasn’t he? Did he run off of an infinite power source or something?

            However, before I could begin my inquiry, he flew away in a dust of smoke, and a second later, he came back with a water bottle filled with murky water.

            “Here you go, mum! I do believe this’ll fix you right up!”

            As soon as he said that, my mind immediately went to, “Thanks, Codsworth”, because that’s what I had always said to him whenever he did his valet services. Despite the obvious desolateness of the world now, I had somehow denied myself the truth, and for a second, I was back in the house, with Nate watching TV, and I sitting next to him conversing of some enjoyable, humorous topic. But then, my reaction time was quick enough so that I stopped myself from saying the past phrase.

            “Any… er… clean water?” I voiced out more clearly.

            “Oh, this isn’t clean?” Codsworth raised his head slightly downwards, and his eyes examined the water bottle filled with murky water for a second, before tossing it away on a previous lawn. “I’m terribly sorry! How could I allow such an atrocity into our home?!” And he started to laugh again, as if our lack of water was something to be laughed about, something to shrug off as an annoyance, a humorous one at that, and nothing else. I suddenly felt sad, pitiful, of myself, Codsworth, Nate, and Shaun. In a strange way, I almost felt as if my husband had gotten it easy, picked the easy way out. It sounds insane, yes, but it’s the depressing truth. Nate died a noble death, trying to protect his son from rude strangers, not knowing of the horribleness of the upside world. Me, on the other hand, I woke up after witnessing him die and being able to do NOTHING, and had to trudge off away from his dead corpse, deal with gigantic roaches, and then find out that the world had become devoid of life, literally. Shaun was kidnapped, by ruthless strangers who had shot a protective parent without a moment’s thought, and right now, he was probably fit in some horrible life, one I would never want him to adopt. Codsworth too, had probably spent the brunt of the time here, waiting for his people to come back. He might’ve been a robot, but any being with intelligent thought would be lonely like that, alone, waiting for so long for a company of people who would never arrive. At that moment, a flash of hatred passed, to myself for abandoning him, towards the Overseer and Vault-Tech people who had trapped us in those cryogenic pods. My pity and shock disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, and from the ashes raised a burning hatred for the evil people who had murdered a person for doing a noble action, and trapped so many good folk while lying to them the whole time that they were going to be okay. I mean, what kind of person would be so hypocritical as to murder hundreds of people and then claim it as an “ethical decision”? The answer (hopefully)? Nobody.

            “Codsworth,” I growled, “it’s alright.” Suddenly, I felt much less thirsty.

            “It is?” He replied in surprise.

            “Yeah,” I said. I was surprised at my own gruffness, and towards Codsworth as well! I attempted to maintain a more cheery tone, for his sake and mine.

            “I apologize about the house, mum. It’s so difficult to clean and scrub things when a nuclear apocalypse has happened! I hate to tell you, but I’d advise you not live in it anymore. Bugs live under the floorboards, and the beds, let me tell you, the beds are the most upsetting of them all! I attempted to maintain their sanctity while you were gone, but they’ve become truly disgusting! I suggest we find new living quarters soon. Oh, and where are Sir and Shaun? I found it strange they didn’t come with you.”

            I cringed in surprise at that. I had hoped to keep his inevitable questions about the whereabouts of Shaun and Nate a mystery until, I don’t know, he forgot about them somehow, but now that he had asked, I knew he deserved a straight answer, or at least the truth.

            “Well…” I muttered softly, attempting to find a way to tell him softly of the news, “y’know, um… Nate is lounging around in his cryogenic pod, enjoying life/heaven (I added quickly) and all that, and Shaun is probably spending some quality time with a bald psychopath!” I attempted to make the whole thing sound cheerful, but afterwards I cringed horribly internally. What kind of report is that?

            “What?” Codsworth asked, incredibly confused.

            “Well, Nate isn’t really alive, er, yeah, cause like the dude who murdered him was trying to kidnap Shaun. Y’know how it goes.”

            “I’m afraid I don’t, mum.”

            “Well, it turns out that, er… you know how we were going to an underground vault to escape from the nuclear detonation?”

            “The one that occurred 200 years ago?”

            I nodded my head.

            “So that’s where you all ran off to? Oh, mum, is this a subtle sign of telling where they are? I do believe I remember the general direction of the vault, let’s go there now!”

            “Hang on, Codsworth!” I held up my hand, stopping him from moving. “I’m afraid that they’ve kind of… relocated?” It sounded pathetic, even to me.

            “Oh, they have? Where are they now?”

            “Well, Nate’s probably having a good tennis match with God in some beautiful clouds right now, and Shaun is having a very educational time learning how to kill people… probably.” I added.

            “Well, that sounds both good and bad!” Codsworth exclaimed. “Do they require rescuing? I think my ol’ flamethrower will help!” He brought out the weapon for display, obviously expecting me to be excited or surprised or pleased or something that I just couldn’t be at that moment (although I must admit he kept it in good shape).

            “Oh, yes…” I nodded my head in mock affirmation, “very… nice… thing you’ve got there...”

            “So where is it that this tennis match is occurring? I think with Nate’s help, we can rescue Shaun from this bald psychopath!” He exclaimed.

            “Listen,” I raised my hand again, as if that were a good way to calm him down. “The place Nate is having the match, well, it’s not a place we can access very easily.”

            _Wow, nice save, idiot._ My antagonistic-self commented.

            _Shut up._ I replied.

            “Where is it?” Codsworth asked, lowering his flamethrower.

            “In heaven.” I blurted out, unable to avoid the truth any longer.

            “Excuse me?”

            I sighed in defeat. As a lawyer, I had always been good with the technicalities, the stupidly small loopholes that nobody else would think of, but my speaking skills were surprisingly bad. My attempts to tell something subtly always failed, because I had always learned that blunt speaking worked best in front of most judges. And so I finally admitted defeat.

            “Nate is dead… and Shaun’s been kidnapped.”


	2. Beginnings... Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird stuff happens. Drama! Action! Hallucinations! Everything you could hope for, all in one chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter! Posted about 3 seconds from the first one! A narrative chapter entirely.

Don’t you (don’t know who “you” are) hate it when you’re trying to write these really dramatic moments, and then a raider comes in your base and starts shooting at it like it’s the largest target practice in the world? I promptly knocked her out, of course, and then threw her out after attaching a note to her chest saying “this house isn’t for target practice!” Yes, I am basically the goddess of coolness, thank you very much for asking.

            Anyhow, Codsworth freaked out promptly after I told him the news straight and simple. It took a few more minutes to truly convince him of their deaths, but it only really served to make him more depressed. He continued to talk cheerfully, as if Nate weren’t dead and Shaun not kidnapped, but I could hear a slight tone decrease, something you wouldn’t be able to spot unless you were that accustomed to the voice of a truly cheerful Mr. Handy. He went away after our conversation finished, claiming that he was going to go “look” for them, just in case they were in the neighborhood. I planned on going with him, but then he said there might be ammo laying around and I figured it would be a better use of time than looking for a husband that was dead and a lost son. However, it turned out that either way, I would’ve wasted time, but at least by going with Codsworth, I would have had his flamethrower to assist me when I encountered the large packs of Radroaches I found in every house. Each one of the creatures went down with one strike of the butt of my gun, except for a few exceptionally obstinate ones, but by the end of it, my gun was so overly covered in unidentifiable, sticky liquid that I debated either throwing it away, or using that dirty and most likely radiation-emitting water that Codsworth had tossed away to clean the gun. In the end, I used the water, knowing that I’d probably be using the weapon for a long time to come. As I poured the water onto the gun, simply seeing the opaque water (which is NOT good for you, okay?) flowing down the side of my handgun, suddenly made me thirsty, and against all common sense, I found myself chugging down the water, my throat screaming in both pain and relief.

            Eventually, I had searched all of the houses, and I went back to my own, past, ruined home and looked at it. Just stared at the thing, willing it to go back to normal, to fix itself back up, and bring Nate back from the dead and Shaun from wherever he went. Nothing happened, however, and after a while, I got bored, and entered the home. The action itself seemed simple enough, just walk through the entrance. But as soon as my right foot crossed into the house, it was as if I was suffocating, drowning in unknown, unseen water. I couldn’t breathe, and I removed my foot immediately, bending down and resting onto my weak knees as I caught my breath. I stared at the house wearily. It looked like any of the other ruined houses. I had been able to stare at it all I wanted, recall all the fond memories I wanted, and I never experienced any panic attacks. Heck, the house was so similar to all the others, it was only through the help of Codsworth that I recognized it at all. I sat down, uncaring whether my vault suit became dirty or not, staring at my house, and simultaneously wondered why I couldn’t enter the home, and recalled all of the memories, the fantastic, perfect memories, that had occurred… 200 years ago.

            I just sat there, hunched over, caught up in a weird trance as I continuously stared at my home. I can’t exactly recall what I thought, but again, it was as if I had somehow tricked myself again, made myself believe that the nuclear apocalypse had never happened, and that I were casually walking around my clean home, marveling at how very perfect my life was. Now, as I write this journal, I can recall these memories, fake ones, that I know I made up somehow, and yet feel so realistic. I can feel the superficial air, smell the perfectly roasted coffee, and yet at the same time I could see the horrors of nuclear disaster, feel the firm ground against my bottom as I sat there, knowing they were simulated memories that would never happen. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t tell they were fake, or differentiate the reality, or the time period I was truly in at that time, because both felt so real, but somehow, the reality of the nuclear apocalypse, of Nate’s demise and Shaun’s kidnapping, felt more real, in a surreal sense that my limited knowledge of the English language could not dictate. They felt warm, true, and yet fake. I had somehow both denied and accepted my situation, and it felt… good. Like I could live in both realities simultaneously for the rest of my life. And at that time, for the few moments I just stared at my house, I knew that I would be content sitting there and thinking of a past time, if only for an hour, two hours, before I died and joined Nate in the afterlife. If there were no disturbances ever in my immediate environment, for the lasting span of my short life-span, without food or water, I know, then and now, I would’ve died, and accepted it, dreaming of a false reality, and accepting the true one at the same time.

            “I didn’t find anything!” From seemingly nowhere, Codsworth’s distressed voice came, and for a brief moment, in my fantasy, both the fake and true one were synchronized together as a single entity, and my realities were combining together too, and I smiled. I seriously wanted to die at that moment, at that perfect time where my two views had merged together into one. I wanted to Codsworth to stop talking, stop interrupting whatever was happening to me, so I could rest in peace. I put on a peaceful, accepting grin, one I know Nate would be proud of, and lay against the floor, content to pass away in that state. Codsworth’s voice became even more distressed, to the point where he was yelling, I believe, but I finally tuned him out, shoved his voice out from my mind.

            I looked down, at my beautiful, bright son, now five years of age, and I told him everything was going to be okay. We were going to be together again. I knew it. If I could just go… to wherever now, then I could finally be reunited with my family, and we could continue our past lives. Three seconds now, I told Shaun excitedly. Two seconds! One second until we can finally leave that world… forever.

            Shaun looked at me, and he grinned widely, with all of the enthusiasm of a budding child, just for one moment, and I was convinced he too was happy I was going to join them in the afterlife. He offered me his hand, and I took it, comforted by his soft, warm hand interlinked with mine. But then, just as milliseconds remained, he suddenly began to scream, his face distorting until it was distressed, and then it was circular, and made out of metal. Eyes, synthetic eyes, perfectly round, peered back at me. The couch, the television, they came apart and formed houses, the ground itself, a hot, harsh sun. I felt something sharp in my arm, two things actually, sharp pains like I had been stabbed with pins. My eyes dilated for a second, is what Codsworth told me afterwards.

            I was so out of it, my consciousness barely, well, conscious, so that I can’t recall details. All I remember was that Codsworth had found me on the ground, smiling, but with a heartbeat so scarce a less accurate robot could mistake me for dead. In his haste to save me, he went into our past house, where he had created a little store room, and grabbed a Stim pack and another, slimmer, syringe that looked fancy. He stabbed me, essentially, in his haste to save me, so that when the two syringes were removed from me, I began to bleed much more profusely than medical application of sharp objects should cause. Codsworth immediately apologized and rushed back into his storeroom to get bandages and gauze. I, intelligently, decided to apply them myself, knowing Codsworth was too hyperactive right now to do anything so delicate. Afterwards, I said thanks to him, which was so perfectly in tone with what I had said previously 200 or so years ago that I was almost proud of myself for adopting so well to the wasteland so quickly. But however I had recovered, the transition from near dead to alive was too quick, and soon after I got back up on my feet, I felt my knees get weak, and my head start to spin around. It was an experience comparable to death in many ways, but it was less urgent, less hostile, less important. I lost consciousness then, aware I wasn’t dying (whether I was glad about that or not is ambiguous, and something I haven’t puzzled out yet), and knowing that Codsworth would care for me, as he always had.


	3. Recovery and Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The protagonist recovers after her really strange encounter with death, and begins her journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like I needed to give some kind of backstory about the protagonist, but then I said, "screw that", so I just added a little bit of context on the relationship between the sole survivor and her ex-husband, and ended up just making him sound like a complete creep and potential stalker.

            Sometimes, back 200 years ago, I would wake up in bed, and the first thing I saw was Nate’s head staring intently at mine. Of course, it freaked me out at first, but I found it cute, endearing, that he found it in some way entertaining to just… watch me sleep. It became some kind of a weird thing between us, an unspoken action never discussed, but understood perfectly. Well, not really. I never understood why Nate stared at me, or why we continued to do it, or for that matter, why we never talked about it. At some point, it became a habit, and it no longer surprised me, and I think Nate seriously woke up earlier than me, just to watch me rest. When I think about it now, it unnerves me a little bit. The idea of somebody watching me sleep, even a loved one, sends chills down my spine, and a horrific image into my mind. I don’t find comfort in the action anymore, because if I had found comfort in those kinds of things, I’m also certain I would be dead. The old me would be dead in this world, the me who thought that she should bring a baby with her to an outside park… UNARMED. It sounds absolutely insane now, an action similar to straight-up suicide, but back then, enjoying yourself was a high priority, and worrying about Mirelurks or Raiders ambushing you and killing you was entrenched so deeply in the mind, it really couldn’t have been considered a priority at all.

            After I woke up, I had a bit of a hallucination, of Nate once again staring at me. I knew it wasn’t real, if only because the bed I was sleeping in was highly uncomfortable, but I still found a bit of comfort in it. I reached my hand out, attempting to stroke his face. I wanted one last moment, fake or not, with my husband, a one worth cherishing, but as I finally touched his face, my hand quickly retracted, and everything disappeared. His face… had felt metallic, and dirty. Not only that, but as I did the action, I could hear the surprised grunt and comment of a Mr. Handy emanate from his mouth, but it didn’t move, just continued to smile gently at my face for a second before he disappeared… forever.

            As the hallucination disappeared, and I truly became awake again, I first saw the head of Codsworth, peering curiously at my eyes. My brain immediately interpreted that as “ _not Nate_ ”, and I screamed, kicked my legs and arms around, wildly enough that one could think I had actual restraints, which I hadn’t.

            “Calm down, calm down, mum!” Codsworth yelled. It was quite ironic, really, because I could tell from his tone of voice that he was trying to sooth me, stop me from making too much of a scene, and yet he was screaming at a higher volume than me.

            Despite my strange encounters, and simulation of fake memories, I still retained my reasoning and common sense, so I calmed down as Codsworth said, and we engaged in conversation.

            “So… how long was I out?” I started the conversation out.

            “Oh, it was horrible, mum! Over a week, yes, a week! It seemed like you were in a coma, so I injected a couple of stimpacks into you just in case, looked for a doctor, but there were none wandering around here! I went to this town, Concord, and yelled out for help, but unless riddling me with bullets is somehow a way to heal a person, I received nothing from that trip!” Codsworth stopped his rambling shortly, looking at me, although, being a robot, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.

            “Oh, gosh.” I muttered, shocked at what Codsworth had done to try to save me. I had abandoned him, hadn’t even thought of him as I ran for my life toward Vault 111, and here he was getting shot at and frantically running about trying to save me. “I’m really sorry, Codsworth, about what happened.”

            “Oh, no, you mustn’t apologize!” Codsworth told me dismissively. “It wasn’t your fault, or mine!”

            “Yeah, yeah, I know.” I raised my hands in defeat, telling him I got the message.

            “Although, when you ponder it for a minute, it makes you think about who did it, doesn’t it?” Codsworth questioned.

            “Well, I don’t think it was an actual living thing that did it, Codsworth.”

            “No? What of that psychopath you were talking about earlier? Perhaps someone informed him of your arrival, so he came here and drugged you! That bastard!” Codsworth raised one of his limbs angrily, shaking it slightly, although I couldn’t really tell if Codsworth actually planned on taking action against this bald man or if he was just expressing some (appreciated) anger towards him.

            I laughed slightly at that. “Codsworth, when you say it like that, you’re basically convicting yourself, you know that?”

            He turned back at me, and even I could tell he was puzzled. “How so?”

            “Well,” I explained, “in order for someone to inform the baldy that I’m here, he or she would have to know I’m… here, right?”

            “Don’t worry, mum. I am most definitely not in cahoots with the psychopath!” Codsworth stated proudly.

            “I know, I know.” I assured him. “I’m just saying that the bald man probably isn’t the one who nearly killed me… at this moment.” I added thoughtfully (meaning, I was in a deep thought process at that time, not that I was thinking really hard about what to say or something!).

            “What?”

            “I mean, er, sorry, incorrect grammar.” Codsworth laughed slightly at that. “I mean, in another moment in the future, like, he might try to kill me.”

            “Well, he is a psychopath after all.” I just nodded my head in agreement at that.

            We continued to converse for a while, and after a day, I had rested up in some old, not-at-all comfortable bed, and determined my goal. Of course, I had no actual leads on my goal, or where to find him, but either way, I found it relaxing, tension-relieving to have an actual reason to exist, something reasonable to do in this wasteland. Looking for your son that might be possibly/probably dead without any sort of clue as to where to look was reasonable, right? However, I didn’t really have any other purpose, anything other to do, so I steeled my nerves, told myself I truly had all the time in the world to do anything else, said goodbye to my death-inducing house, and left.  As I walked away, however, from my old house, I heard a voice calling out to me. It was Codsworth.

            “Wait up, mum!”

            I turned around, confused as to why he was calling for me. “What is it?” I yelled back.

            Codsworth arrived promptly, due to his strange rush to catch up to me. “As you could probably tell, I was a bit lonely, all by myself for 200 years. Now that I know at least you’re alive, I thought that perhaps… I could stick around?”

            “I don’t think we should make finding glue such a high priority.” I joked.

            “What?” Codsworth asked, confused.

            _Wow, “nice” joke there… idiot._ My antagonistic-self commented.

            _Will you stop calling me an idiot?_ I half-asked and half-reprimanded.

            _Once you stop being one._ She replied.

            _I’ll stop being an idiot once you stop being an idiot._ I said.

            _Well, yes, I guess I’m not the one attempting to have two conversations at once. Then again, if I were in control, I would actually pay attention to one specific conversation partner that you happen to be IGNORING right now._

I seemed to snap back into reality, as if having conversations with myself brought me into another dimension of the world, as I realized that I was probably spacing out in front of Codsworth while we were having a conversation, one that he seemed to deem important, according to his franticness.

            “-and I know I’m only a Mr. Handy robot, but I truly believe I can be of use to you in more than just butler services. With that, I would like to ask you a proposal.” Codsworth seemed slightly unsure of himself now, and less hurried than before.

            “Go on,” I blurted out, despite knowing nothing of what he was talking about.

            “I propose that I act as some kind of companion to you. A fighting partner, and somebody to keep you company. I believe it will be a perfectly mutual relationship, and I guarantee I will not do anything foolish.”

            “Ok.” I nodded my head dumbly. At that time, I had no real reason to deny his request, really. He had an electronic saw and a very shiny flamethrower, and I had a common handgun with no ammo. He obviously was trying to convince me, but in truth, I was internally slapping myself for not thinking of asking him first.

            “Really?” Codsworth asked, still unsure of something.

            “Yeah, of course. How could I live without you?” I laughed nervously, quietly, so that Codsworth’s much more sincere and actually humorous laugh overpowered mine. How true that statement was, how truly sad that statement was.


	4. Meeting and Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The protagonist (sort of) fights a dog, and converses with their antagonistic-self about a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 hits now! That's actually more than I expected, for a story that doesn't have sex in it, and provides the stupidest summary ever. Don't think I haven't noticed the pattern!

            After Codsworth started traveling with me, he suggested that we go to some place he had visited before, that he said was only “mildly” hostile. It was called Concord, and from what Codsworth said about being shot at, I wasn’t exactly sure whether going there was going to be the best choice of action. I didn’t really have anything else to do, any other leads to go off of, so Codsworth vaguely attempted to mark it on the map on my Pip Boy, and we started to go there.

            Every once in a while, when I was hungry or thirsty, Codsworth would bring up some purified water or Sugar Bombs from thin air, and I decided to go with it. Who was I to question his mysterious methods?

            After a while, we found a settlement of kinds, with this sign with a red rocket. Codsworth seemed to be unfamiliar with the place, although, which made me paranoid that we were going the wrong direction. Just as we passed through the small place, however, I heard a sound, a low-pitched kind of one. It wasn’t human, that was for certain, so I was sure that it was some new, dangerous monster that had been formed from decades of radiation exposure. However, as soon as I whipped around, useless gun in hand, I found myself eye-to-eye with a panting dog. I screamed, scrambled back, as I seem to do every time a pacifistic creature approaches me, and observed the creature from a farther distance.

            The dog, in return, tilted his head slightly at me, questioning my actions. This was before, unfortunately, he ran at me and pounced on my upper-body. I took it as a sign of aggression, not playfulness, and screamed.

            “CODSWORTH!”

            My loyal companion turned around from his previous oblivious state (somehow), and he immediately rushed towards me after seeing my predicament. It seemed that he too took the dog as an enemy.

            He raised a saw, buzzing excitedly, and brought it down upon the dog. However, it only cut air (and nearly me!), as the dog had agilely dogged the attack, with all of the playfulness from before.

            He leaned on his front paws, so his tail was sticking up in the air, wagging excitedly, his tongue sticking out at Codsworth.     

            Codsworth, however, took this as a taunt, and became more aggravated towards the fuzzy creature.

            “Get back here!” He commanded. He immediately rushed forward, as quickly as he could (which was quite fast for a Mr. Handy), and swung the saw once again. It almost seemed to catch the dog by surprise this time, and it may have clipped some of his hair, but besides that, the dog remained relatively unscathed.

            The whole time, I was leaning on my side, watching the fight in fascination. The previous hostility I believed I had received from the dog quickly dissolved, as I realized that he seemed to only want to play. The dog apparently found joy in evading the quick slices of Codsworth’s saws.

            At first, I frowned. What kind of dog liked to be attacked? Not a self-preserving one, that’s for sure. Then, I shook my head, figuring that this was the world now. The land of domestic dogs had disappeared long ago, centuries away, although the dog quite literally playing with Codsworth, at that time, still seemed to retain some domestic traits. I continued to observe the fight for a while, until Codsworth stopped pursuing from robotic exhaustion, and the dog finally stopped moving around.

            “I haven’t met such a worthy foe in a long time!” Codsworth exclaimed. His saw halted to a stop.

            The dog sat down in turn, tilting his head once again, only this time at Codsworth. He wasn’t winded at all by the long chase sequence he had just initiated. No, it looked like the complete opposite, like he was invigorated by all of the attacking and evading.

            I finally got up from my side. “Hold up, Codsworth,” I called to my companion, “I don’t think that he’s hostile towards us.”

            “It didn’t seem very serious,” Codsworth supported. “It looked quite happy the whole time, actually!”

            I shook my head in affirmation. “Come on, let’s go. We have no reason to bother him.”

            Codsworth nodded in agreement, and after a quick check with the map, we continued on our way to Concord. During the whole time, although, my mind lingered on the dog, thinking of him. Once or twice, I even thought of bringing him along with us! Codsworth seemed like an able fighter, yes, but he had fought seriously, and the dog hadn’t. I could honestly say that the dog actually _played_ with Codsworth, dodging his attacks like they were slower than a fatigued snail.

            I got into deep thought, as my body almost went into auto-pilot. Codsworth decided to take the lead, and I just followed him, although most of my attention was focused on thinking of our previous encounter.

            _When did dogs become so strong?_ I thought to myself, aware I was probably provoking the antagonistic side of me into replying.

            _Maybe he isn’t strong, maybe Codsworth is just a weak idiot._ My antagonistic-self replied, as I thought she would.

            _Firstly, Codsworth is most definitely stronger than we are, and secondly, we need to get you a name_ , I thought suddenly.

            _Avoiding the topic, huh? What a weak tactic_ , “I” supplied.

            _No, seriously. What if I have to tell someone I have a voice in my head? I can’t say that I’m talking to myself, even though you’re basically a separate entity. Look, I’m even referring to you as an individual… thing._

            _Why don’t you just call me “the voice in my head”?_ She suggested mockingly.

            _Look, I don’t want to seem like a crazy woman, and talking about separate entities that exist only in my brain seems to be the perfect way to do just that._

_Talking about the voices in your head is the perfect way to not seem insane?_ She teased aggressively.

            _What?_ I asked, genuinely confused.

            _I thought,_ she continued her little speech as if I hadn’t interrupted, _that you were a lawyer, a charismatic individual, but you can’t even communicate your ideas in less-than complex sentences. Come on, I’m you, admit that. Even an idiot like you, or me, can see that you thoroughly screwed up that sentence._

_WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!_ I asked/yelled.

            _I don’t know, what are we talking about? I’m not the one who switched the topic TWICE._

_Do you know what?_ I, as much as a person can, threw my hands up in frustration mentally, _I don’t even care if I come off as insane anymore, because I probably am! I am quite literally playing mind-games… WITH MYSELF!_

_Am I you, or am I a separate mind? Make up your “mind”, woman!_ My antagonistic-self replied. The way she phrased it, would make it appear that she was annoyed at my apparent indecisiveness, but I could tell she was only enjoying this.

            _I did!_ I insisted stupidly, _you’re the one who referred to yourself as me! You confused me!_

_My dear, that’s what happens when insane people try to convince themselves that they’re not insane._ She informed me, in a mockingly comforting tone.

            I breathed slowly, calming myself down. She was trying to provoke me, make me say things I would never mean, but she could use all she wanted against me in other inevitable arguments.

            _You are a separate entity._ I informed her as calmly, and quietly as I could, _because it doesn’t matter whether you claim to be a representation of my hate, or everything wrong with me, because no part of me, is as snarky, snide, and derogatory as you!_

_Ok, sure, believe that._

_I will_. I stated strongly.

            And just like that, she disappeared, with one last comment.

            _Anika’s a good name, isn’t it?_


End file.
